Paysages Américains
by charlieal12
Summary: One-Shot based off of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "Babylon Revisited". Honoria has a decision to make. A decision that can forever change her life, and one that brings up unwelcome memories. SIDENOTE: this short got me an A in my college class, so I hope it's worth a read haha.


**Hello everyone. This is just a small story I had to write for a literature course I took in school last year. I figured that I might as well publish it here! Enjoy!**

_**Paysages Américains**_

**I.**

The taxi is jittery. For a moment Honoria is taken aback. She looks to Russell to see if he also feels unnerved by their driver's terrible steering. He is looking at her with wide eyes and she instantly breaks her gaze, almost feeling as if he will devour her with his stare.

_Love is an odd thing, _she thinks to herself. Truth be told, she doesn't quite know what the word means. People always speak of this intense emotion, a feeling of unsurmountable attraction that causes one to lose the ability to think with logic. She's never felt that she thinks, at least not recently enough to remember what it felt like.

She can feel Russell's eyes on her as she gazes out the window. Her eyes stay firmly planted on the passing buildings as they near her home. Russell is nice enough.

For a quick second she allows herself to think of her father. She remembers his last letter to her a few weeks before her 14th birthday. Her expression becomes a scowl. She purges all the memories just as the taxi stops at the apartment. Russell opens the door for her and she gives him a warm smile. They are walking towards her doorstep. She knows what's coming. _God, _she thinks.

"Have you thought about it?" He looks at her that way again. She just knows he has the ring tucked away somewhere.

"Yes." She looks at the ground, " I have, Russell... I think I need more time."

" You've had three weeks though. You said you would know today." It's his turn to scowl now. She feels her face turning red.

" I know, goodness, I know Russell. This is just very difficult" She looks at her former classmate, his eyes are focused on the brick wall of her apartment building. He's such a kind soul. She doesn't want to hurt him. For a minute they stand by the door, pensive expressions locked on both of their faces.

"I have a home, you know?" He's looking at her again. She stares back at him taken by surprise. "Not in Paris, back home in Raleigh. My father left me his old place, left me his money too. Just have to take care of my Ma and finish up school over there. Maybe she can meet the pretty French girl I always write her about." Honoria smiles.

"I'm not French" She gives a small giggle. He thinks she cares about his money. There is some more silence, a more comfortable kind. Warm almost.

" Have you heard of the Blue Ridge Mountains?" She shakes her head. "Oh they're gorgeous. You can see them if you'd like. If you come with me."

She pauses. She never thought about leaving the country. For a minute she closes her eyes and imagines a world without Marion and her damned sanctimonious threats. She almost says yes.

" Give me until monday." He scowls at her. "I promise I'll know by then."

"You promise?"

" Yes."

The night has fully crept over the city. She can't believe the day is over already. The memory of freshly baked canelés and the new film house lingers in the back of her head for a minute. She sighs and reaches for her house key.

"It's late Russell, I should go now."

"Where do you want me to meet you on monday?" He grasps at her hand.

"I'll call you on the telephone." she says. He doesn't break eye contact. " is 7pm a good time for you?"

"It's perfect."

He kisses her. She kisses back. She feels something. Something nice.

"Goodbye, Russell."

"Goodbye, Honoria." He pauses before muttering something under his breath. "I'll see you later."

She enters the apartment and closes the door. Russell waits for her bedroom light to turn on before heading home.

II.

The city is bustling as it usually is. Honoria nearly trips over a small white dog. She hears the Bijon Frise yap at her as she scuttles across the street. She knows she shouldn't be walking so fast, but the library closes in half an hour. Honoria counts her blessings that Marion demanded they move to a different part of town, a part closer to the library and all the little shops she now considers part of her home.

The imposing steps of the library greet her and she makes her way up. The inside smells of old books, her favorite. There is an embittered old woman at the front desk.

"Can I be of any assistance?" the woman asks. Her voice is rather scratchy. It's obvious she has asked everyone that walks in the same question.

"Would you happen to have anything about America?"

The woman looks up from the desk slightly surprised that the girl actually responded. Most people ignore her. Parisians tend to know what they're looking for, or at least they pretend to.

"Let me look."

It isn't Honoria's first time at the library, so she knows where to go based off of the reference number the woman gives her. She makes her way to the end of the library. The books go from french history, to european history, and finally to the americas. The selection is rather scarce, but then again there aren't many french books on the subject. One stands out amongst the rest.

_Paysages Américains_

She quickly pulls out the long book. She opens it to a random page and is greeted with a landscape painting of the Black Canyon of The Gunnison. _Beautiful_, she thinks. Her mind wanders to leaving. On whether she could do that to her father.

He stopped writing a few years after his last visit. She remembers Marion's conversations with girlfriends on the telephone. Phone calls relishing that the bastard was finally dead. No final visit,no burial, just the cremated ashes of the bits they could scrape off the railroad tracks.

Honoria sighs and flips to the next page. A sunset. The painting is so vivid she almost thinks it's one of those color photos she's heard about. There is a small caption on the left corner.

_Les Montagnes Blue Ridge_

She can feel tears streaming down her face. For a few minutes she lets herself take in the painting. Her eyes close. There's a house there, a quaint cabin with snow and wilderness. Maybe a child.

She opens her eyes and shuts the book.

She needn't keep such thoughts. It's closing time, afterall.

III.

"Pass the Rosemary."

Honoria reaches into the small cabinet next to the stove and pulls it out. Marion is stirring at the pot of chicken soup. Honoria hates chicken soup. She peeks into the living room where Lincoln sits reading the local paper.

He's the reason why they moved. No one really talks about it, except for Marion on the rare night of excessive drink. Honoria remembers though.

It looks like it's only going to be the three of them tonight. Her cousins are probably off to some social that she didn't get invited to. _Bastards, _she thinks_. _

"Why aren't you listening to me?"

Honoria looks back at Marion, who is giving her a sour look over the soup.

"Chop the onions." Marion gestures to the sink.

Honoria makes her way there. She grabs the first onion and puts it on the chopping block. She tears into it with the knife and it burns her eyes. She assumes thats why it's her chopping the stupid things and not Marion.

"You came home late on Saturday. Woke me up." Honoria feels Marions eyes on her. She dares not turn.

" I apologize, the film was longer than I expected." It isn't a lie.

"I didn't know he wants to marry you."

She stops chopping.

"Honoria, you're not actually going to do that, right?"

Honoria doesn't know what to say. She tries to mutter something, but all that comes out is an awkward squelch. She takes a deep breath.

" He's got a house in America, he says I could go there with him." Marion laughs. The kind she made after Father died.

"I suppose you love him, right?" Honoria nods despite the doubt. Marion looks at her now. Gives her a long stare, one of pity.

" Romance," Marion says, " doesn't exist. I can promise you I've felt what you are feeling now." She looks out the kitchen door. Lincoln pretends to read the paper. "You can commit yourself as much as you want, but it's never true." Honoria remembers the day now, the one with the beautiful young man running out of Marion's bedroom almost nude.

"But I loved my sister." Marion says. Her voice cracks. "I loved her with all my heart, and I know that was never false." Honoria doesn't know what to do. "I see her in you. It's all I have. Don't do this to me."

"Is that all I am to you? Some stupid thing to look at?". It comes off a bit harsher than she intended, but honestly Honoria doesn't care anymore. Marion glares at her, tears mark her face.

The pot on the stove is starting bubble. No one seems to care.

"You are just like him." Marion spits out.

Honoria looks her in the eye.

"Maybe I am."

Marion is silent for a bit. She turns off the stove and walks towards her room. Honoria goes to the living room and sits next to Lincoln, who is still focused on the same page of the paper. They sit awhile in silence.

"Why don't you just leave? Everyone knows, Lincoln. They hate you here.".Truth be told, Honoria never thought she could say such a thing. She's enjoying this new side of herself.

"I could say the same to you." Lincoln finally puts the paper down and looks at her. "I'll let go when you do." he says.

Honoria smiles. Maybe she did have a friend in the house after all.

_Let go._

She remembers her father's last letter. The one where he said goodbye.

_I love you darling, please let go._

She hears the telephone ring. She walks to the kitchen and picks it up.

"Hello?" she says.

_Let go._

" Hey." It's Russell. "I know you said you would call, but I couldn't wait."

She thinks of Marion, of the constant berating.

_Let go._

"It's all fine." she responds.

She thinks of father, of how he wanted to her to stay in Paris. She thinks of the life they could have had together if he hadn't stepped on the tracks, of how she still looked out the bedroom window at night hoping to see him waving up to her from the city streets.

_Let go._

"What do you say then?" he asks.

For a moment Honoria feels all of the feelings she's kept harbored inside her at once. Images are evoked in her memory. Father. Train. Ashes.

She feels it all slowly drain with every breath she draws. The hate. The hope. The trauma. Maybe a bit of regret.

She thinks of Russell now, of his smile. She also thinks of a child, a child she could give everything that she was denied of.

And then she sees them, the Blue Ridge Mountains. They're looming over her, larger and more beautiful than she could ever imagine. A new horizon.

She draws one last breath.

"I'm coming." She says, "I'm coming, Russell".

Source

Fitzgerald, F. Scott. _Babylon Revisited_. 1931


End file.
